Undertow: Building Sanctuary, Book Two (7 page)

Still, the cabins meant that rescue
would
come, even if Seamus couldn’t use magic or wits to find them before spring. Humans would return to check on their summer cottages. He and Simone simply had to make do until then.

He trotted back to the cabin and scratched at the door until Simone eased it open for him.

She closed the door quickly, clutching her blanket more tightly around her bare shoulders. “I found a kettle in that cupboard over there and started…something.” She knelt by the hearth. “How’s your boat?”

It was almost a relief to still be a wolf. He didn’t have to answer the difficult question right away. Instead he walked to the far side of the room and did his best to shake off without getting anything important wet. Then he crouched low and started the painful process of shifting.

This close to the full moon, it wasn’t easy. Embracing his wolf became effortless as the moon grew heavy in the sky, but reclaiming humanity turned into a battle. He rode out the pain as his bones realigned and fur vanished. Minutes later found him kneeling naked on the cold wooden floor, panting for breath as the fire lingered in his bruised body.

“All right?” she asked quietly, her gaze still focused on the contents of the iron kettle.

“I’ll manage.” Moving slowly, he wrapped up in the other blanket she’d laid out. It was dry, at least, through meager protection against the cold. “What are you cooking?”

“Soup?” A shy smile curved her lips. “If I sound uncertain, it’s because I am.”

The firelight cast intriguing shadows on her features, turning her beauty into something haunting, and not touching her was a trial. “We’ll learn to make do. I know a few things about rough cooking. No fancy kitchens where I grew up.”

Finally, she turned her head and looked at him. “Rose has been teaching me to cook. I need a considerable amount of instruction, I admit.”

“So that’s why the two of you spend so much time together.” He grinned to cover the way her voice stirred his body. “Perhaps she should be teaching all of us.”

“You could attend her lessons, if you cared to learn.”

“Maybe I will, once we get back to the island.”

“You never answered my question.” She tilted her head. “The boat?”

The answer probably showed in his eyes, but he shook his head anyway. “I think I’ll be buying a new one in the spring.”

She sighed and sat back. “We’ll be fine here, but I worry about the others. Not knowing what happened to us, I mean.”

There was nothing to be done about it, unless the wizard could work a spell to conjure them out of thin air—or, more likely, one to find them. “Maybe James will have a way of knowing.”

“I had thought of it,” she admitted, “but I don’t believe he’s acquainted with spells of the sort.”

Of course not. The one useful thing the wizard could have provided, and he was incapable. Perhaps not a fair thought, but the man
was
a rival.

A rival with a distinct disadvantage. Victor had Simone to himself for the foreseeable future, after all. “Well, we’ll do our best, and so will they. Seamus and Joan will take care of everyone.”

“I know.” She rose slowly. “What about you, stuck here with me? Do you think you’ll make it?”

Her voice was light, teasing, but he couldn’t summon an equal levity when she was so close. Days stretched out before him, just the two of them trapped in forced intimacy, and he
knew
his resolve would break. He could already feel it cracking.

“Now, that isn’t fair,” she murmured. “There should be a rule, you know. You aren’t allowed to look at me like that if I’m not allowed to be encouraged by it.”

He made himself look away. God only knew how much longer he’d have
that
much will power. “I think the rules are changing.”

“So you’ve decided I’m not fragile and misled after all?”

Frustration rose as fast as desire had, a common enough occurrence around her. “I never thought you were either. I think you’re reeling. I think we’re all reeling. Or maybe you can’t imagine the hell
my
instincts have been in with a dozen bruised girls looking at me like they might be considering fucking their way to safety.”

“I’m sure I can, now that you mention it.” She crossed the room to test some hanging clothes for lingering dampness.

“Is that so? What, exactly, do you imagine it’s like?”

“I imagine you want to take what they’re offering.” Simone propped her hands on her hips. “Not because you want to fuck them, but because you know it will make them feel better, at least in the short run.”

Close enough to be uncomfortable, though it fell far short of describing the true agony of being caught between the demands of his wolf and his conscience as a man. Instinct wanted to soothe the girls, to give them whatever they required to reassure them they were safe. Decency made him recoil at the idea of taking a traumatized young woman to his bed. And young they were, some of them sixteen or seventeen, too young for bedding, and far too young to be bartering with their bodies.

Given his choice, he’d bring Edwin Lancaster back from the dead and kill him again.

Victor dragged his temper under control with several steady breaths. “I think about what could make a sixteen-year-old girl ready to give herself to a stranger. I think about what pain, what neglect and abuse must have broken their spirits. I even think about the ones like Rose, who are older and quieter but flinch if you move too quickly, and I wonder how any of us can do right by you. How any damn thing we do won’t be wrong somehow.”

“So it’s better to play games with us.” Her eyes flashed. “Better to lie.”

She was infuriating. “Lie? About
what
?”

“About the way you
felt
.” She folded her arms around her body. “You lied every time you turned your back on me, and it hurt, Victor. Even if you had the best of intentions.”

“When I turned my back on you, it wasn’t a lie. And by the time it would have been one, I didn’t need to turn my back. You’d turned yours. I was too late.”

Instead of arguing, Simone bit her lip and sank to the bed, her shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry I brought it up. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Defeat. She looked defeated, and it wiped away his frustration and anger, leaving behind the soft ache of failure. He had failed her, even if he hadn’t meant to. “It matters to you.”

“No.” She breathed a soft noise of frustration. “You’ve explained your motivations, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect more.”

“Maybe not. But I never intended to hurt you.”

When she looked up, it was with painful vulnerability. “
I
should have lied. Told you that you didn’t have the power to hurt me.”

Victor had to go to her.

He moved slowly, and her vulnerable expression gave way to wariness as she shook her head. “I don’t need you to coddle me. It’s silly.”

She was wary, but she hadn’t pulled back. “I’m hoping you’ll coddle me a little bit, even if I don’t deserve it.”

After a moment, she unbent enough to favor him with a trembling smile. “You’re doing this to humor me, I know you are.”

“Then you don’t know nearly so much as you think.” He stopped just short of the bed and held out a hand. “I’m sorry, Simone.”

Her humor faded, and she slowly laid her hand in his. “So am I.”

She wanted him. It wasn’t a new realization, but it was a thousand times more dangerous now that they were trapped alone, naked, with the moon singing in their blood. By tomorrow morning he’d be climbing the walls, horny and riled and in desperate need of a good run.

Or a good ride.
How tempting it was to just give in and let instinct take the blame.

Tempting, and unacceptable. So he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Forgiven?”

Her gaze was soft and serious, and she answered in a wistful whisper. “Always.”

Her sweet acceptance soothed the harsh edges inside him enough that he felt safe settling next to her and looping one arm around her shoulders. “We’ve both had a long day. Perhaps this isn’t the time to be discussing serious issues.”

“Or it’s the very best time,” she mused quietly. “We can’t run away from anything.”

“And we’re too exhausted to be diplomatic?”

Simone laughed gently and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Sometimes I think trying to be diplomatic only gets us in trouble.”

He loved the feel of her curled trustingly against him. “Trying to
talk
gets me in trouble. This is more than I’ve said in a month.”

“That settles it.” A pretty blush colored her cheeks. “We’re truly opposites, in nearly every respect.”

“Nothing wrong with that. I like listening to you talk.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “We’re going to be all right, darling.”

“We’re both smart and resourceful. Of course we will be.”

“And they’re going to be all right without us.”

She barely hesitated. “If they can muddle through without the supplies, yes.”

It wouldn’t be easy, or they wouldn’t have taken the risk of meeting Slim in uncertain weather to begin with. “Seamus has done more with less in the past, and Joan seems plenty stubborn. They’ll make it.”

“Then we only have to worry about ourselves.” The back of her hand grazed his thigh through the blanket. “Tomorrow’s the full moon.”

That fast, he was rock-hard and aching with the need to touch her. “It is,” he agreed, and even to his own ears his voice sounded hoarse.

“Things happen,” Simone told him slowly, “and I need you to understand. To tell me it’s all right. Because I wouldn’t push you, Victor, not for anything, but tomorrow…” She swallowed hard.

The loss of control would be unforgivable—for him. But he couldn’t put the responsibility for his actions on
her
shoulders. He cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead, ignoring the way her sweet, clean scent called to him. “Whatever happens, we’ll manage. I’m not uninterested, it’s simply not the way I would choose to be with you. It’s less than you deserve.”

“That isn’t—” Her words melted into a growl, and she bit his jaw.

Jesus Christ.
Her hair had dried in auburn tangles that knotted around his fingers as he fisted his hand in the disheveled mass. He dragged her mouth from his skin and nearly groaned at the sight of the smooth line of her throat, pale and vulnerable in the firelight. “It’s less than we
both
deserve. Believe me, Simone, if you end up underneath me, I’ll take you. I’ll take you so completely you’ll never forget the feel of my cock. And if you think I’ve been an asshole so far, you don’t want to see me fighting to convince my wolf that you don’t belong to me. This is not a game.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, ginger lashes coming to rest on her cheeks. “So you keep reminding me. Do you think I would make light of something like this?”

“No. But last time I hurt you by not telling you why I pushed you away. Unless you’ve changed your mind about possibly leaving in the spring…”

She tensed under his hands and opened her eyes. “Making that decision now, based on this attraction, would be horribly selfish of me. Then again, so is this, isn’t it?”

If it was, he was every bit as selfish. Arrogant ego whispered that he should stretch her out and show her just how good he could make it. Addict her to the pleasure of his touch, to the things he would do to her. With instinct riding her, they would wallow in animal need. He could almost taste her on his tongue already.

“Not selfish,” he whispered, struggling to banish an image of firelight on her naked breasts as her hips lifted desperately toward his mouth. “Human. But it can’t happen, not if we can help it.”

She exhaled, one single shaky breath. “How big is this island?”

“I’m not sure.” He loosened his fingers. “Large enough that there might be some game. Rabbits, at least. Maybe deer.”

“Then we can go hunting tomorrow.”

A different sort of chase. Safer, and necessary. “We can.”

Her tremulous smile steadied. “Ready to try the vegetable soup?”

“Past ready. I’m hungry enough to eat Guy’s cooking.”

She affected a shudder and rose. “I figured you’d eat your shoes before going that far.”

“They’d taste better.” And he’d make jokes about eating his shoes all night if it kept that beautiful smile of hers alive. “Anything I can do to help?”

She waved him away. “You must have a hundred other things to do if we’re going to be here for a while.”

At least that many. Victor rose and stretched carefully, testing sore muscles. The hours spent resting as a wolf had accelerated his healing, which meant the bruises he’d earned getting them safely to shore would certainly be healed by morning. One look out the window, however, put to rest any ideas he’d had about braving the storm in search of more firewood. The wind battering the cabin walls showed no signs of abating and, even under the relative shelter of the trees, snow accumulated with impressive speed.

It would be a few days at least before Guy could risk taking his boat to the mainland. The island Victor and Simone had ended up on was just enough off the easiest course that rescuers from Breckenridge weren’t likely to find them without magic. A trip to Searsport, then, and a phone call to Slim, who would have returned to Boston by now. Guy would realize they’d left the morning of the storm, and then…

Magic might be their only hope of being found before spring. At least their wizard would be highly motivated. Not the most pleasant thought, but Victor pushed down jealousy and possessiveness in favor of practicality—and protectiveness. It didn’t matter who got the job done, as long as Simone was returned to safety. Whole. Happy.

His.

Victor’s fingers tightened on the window frame until the wood creaked under his punishing grip.
Not
his. And somehow he’d find a way to remember that.

Chapter Six

The sun passed its zenith and began to sink in the west. Simone and Victor had spent the morning and afternoon of the second day trying to prepare the small cabin for a stay of indeterminate length, but they’d ended up snapping and fighting more often than not, even after their tentative truce.

It had to be the pull of the moon in her blood. It left her with immediate, unthinking reactions that were more animal than human, and her wolf wasn’t comfortable with Victor’s. They shared a bond, but it didn’t hold the same ease she shared with the rest of the pack, all because they’d been too busy struggling not to give in to the greater intimacy they both desired. And uneasy wolves in their situation usually ended that wariness in one of two ways—sex or violence.